Child of the Light
by Akanue
Summary: Ciel's last desperate prayers were answered on that darkest day, and an angel rescued him from hell. With an angel by his side instead of a demon, how differently will his story unfold? AU.
1. Prologue: Light in the Darkness

Title: Child of the Light

Author: Akanue

Fandom: Black Butler

Rating: M

Warning(s): Violence, gore, mentions of child abuse, and all the typical _Black Butler_ stuff.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Black Butler_ or its characters. They belong to A-1 Pictures, Square Enix, Yana Toboso, and other licensors and distributors. This is a not-for-profit fan work. William is my OC and thus tentatively belongs to me.

Summary: Ciel's last desperate prayers were answered on that darkest day, and an angel rescued him from hell. With an angel by his side instead of a demon, how differently will his story unfold? AU.

Author's Note: Oh, boy. _This_ story. Can't believe I'm doing it. Essentially, what would have happened if someone who actually wanted to help Ciel, not corrupt him into a delicious dinner, had rescued him all those years ago? In the immortal words of Abridged!Cooler, "Imma do it!" I appreciate all reviews and constructive criticism!

Child of the Light

Prologue

Light in the Darkness

The child shut his eyes tight and plastered his hands over his ears. He'd never been so scared in his life. He knew he would be next.

It was cold, so cold.

"_Mother, Father, God, please,"_ he repeated over and over in his mind, even if he lost more faith in his prayers every time he said them. It had been a month now, in this horrible place where no light shone, and no one had come to save him. He was going to die, alone and miserable.

Most of the other children had already died, either as sacrifices or from illness or some other consequence of their ill treatment. One had even taken her own life rather than face the horrors inflicted on her by her tormentors.

It seemed an important ceremony would be performed that day, as there were nearly triple the number of people in the chamber than were usually there. They'd already dragged out five children and killed them, four boys and one girl. Each and every time Ciel feared he would be next. He felt a pang of guilt every time a crying child was drawn from the cage, not because he couldn't do anything to help them, but because he was glad it was them and not him.

Finally, it came his turn. Big, rough hands entered the cage to grab him and yank him out, still stained with the blood of the boy who had just died as he wept pathetically on the alter. The young Earl Phantomhive made a half-hearted effort to pull away and tried to scream, but it was useless. He was too weak to even cry out after weeks of malnutrition and abuse. Three dozen sets of eyes watched him intently, their owners' faces concealed by decorative masks. A huge alter had been set up in the center of the room, encircled by a pentagram symbol drawn in blood. Countless children had already been murdered in the cult's attempt to summon a demon, their bodies placed in a corner to later be disposed of.

An icy chill went through his bones as the realization finally settled in that this was the end. He was going to die.

"No, no!" he exclaimed, using the last burst of energy he had in him to try and get away. It was futile, he knew. But he wasn't ready to give up just yet. He wanted to live.

An angry look crossed the face of the man gripping Ciel's right arm as he jerked the boy roughly onto the alter, leaving bruises on the boy's arm. The second man approached with a huge knife and pressed a suffocating hand down on Ciel's chest, pinning the boy so he couldn't move.

An older man who stood closest to the alter opened a thick leather-bound book and began reading in a steady voice a language Ciel didn't recognize. Ciel briefly wondered how this man could remain so calm in spite of the horrible atrocities going on around him. These people were the real monsters, not the ones in the bedtime stories his mother had told him as a child. He was sure not even demons themselves could be this cruel.

He only took a moment to regain what little strength he could before he tried escaping again, squirming against the cold, cruel hand planted in the center of his chest. It was no good, the muscular arm wouldn't budge. On the contrary, Ciel's struggles annoyed the man enough that he pressed down with more force, making it harder for the already panicking child to breathe.

He never once gave up, even as the priest finished the profane prayer and the man assigned to hold him down raised the knife, ready to drive it deep into the child's flesh. Ciel fought until the bitter end, in spite of how fruitless he knew it to be.

Instinctively crying for help, even though he knew it would not come, Ciel begged one last time for someone, anyone, to save him before he flinched away from the instrument of his demise, ashamed at his own weakness in his final seconds.

As the excruciating pain washed over his chest and he began screaming in agony, white feathers began falling all around him, gleaming in an unearthly light.

A voice that sounded like the ringing of bells began to echo around the room. "Anyone can repent. There is no sin beyond forgiveness."

"A—An angel!" one of the women in the back gasped.

Using all of his strength to turn his head, Ciel glanced at the newcomer, lost in a haze of pain and wanting to know what was going on before he passed from the world.

A new man stood in front of the alter, magnificent white wings extending from his back. He was tall and lean, with almost translucent skin and crystal clear blue eyes. Every muscle in his body was tense, in spite of his serene voice and words. "I will allow you to live, if you leave this place at once and make amends as best you can."

The head priest shouted that the profane intruder should be killed, and the man who had just stabbed Ciel lunged forward like a well-trained dog to remove the witness. In response, the angel raised his hand and the people in the room exploded in a shower of blood, only leaving bits and pieces of their bodies behind. It was a terribly gruesome sight. In spite of the brutal act he'd just committed, the angel looked sorrowful, as if he hadn't wanted to do it.

"It's all right," the angel said gently, turning to Ciel and waving a hand over the boy's chest. Still traumatized by the memory of being held down, Ciel flinched, but the man's touch was gentle. And in an instant, the pain was gone. Ciel sat up, gasping as he realized the wound on his chest was gone. This man had healed it like it was nothing, snatching him from the brink of death.

"W—Who are you?"

"You pleaded for help and I have answered. Now, what do you desire?"

"I want revenge," the boy said simply, regaining himself as the fear began to fade and his pride returned to the surface.

"Revenge? Revenge will accomplish nothing. It won't bring your parents back. It won't make the last month go away. I'm sorry, but nothing can. What you _can_ do is move forward from here." The angel's voice was gentle, understanding. It infuriated Ciel more than anything.

"Do you think I don't know that?" Ciel snapped. "Nothing can bring back what I've lost. But I can't move forward anymore. I don't want to. All I want is to take revenge on those who did this to me, and I know there are more out there." He glared at the angel stubbornly. "And if you won't help me, then I'll just do it on my own."

"You may do as you wish," the angel said, though through his stoic demeanor, if Ciel didn't know any better, he would have said the angel looked hurt. "Regardless, I have answered your prayers, and I will remain with you, protecting you, until you no longer need me."

Ciel grunted and tried to get to his feet, but having been severely weakened by malnutrition his legs gave out beneath him and he collapsed to the floor.

Reacting faster than should have been humanly possible, the angel reached down to grab the boy and pull him back to his feet, a look of worry etched across his face.

Ciel grimaced and opened his mouth to snap at the angel before he thought better of it. He might as well use this man to his advantage while he could, because he knew he couldn't take his revenge by himself. If the angel was willing to serve him and would be loyal, there was no reason to turn him away. "What should I call you?"

"Whatever you desire," the angel replied. "It would not do to have you calling me by my true name."

Ciel released a deep sigh, glancing around. There was a book on a nearby shelf, a book he'd always seen in his father's study and had dreamed of finally being able to comprehend it someday. He supposed their copy had been burned to ashes, yet that dream lived on. William Blake's _Songs of Innocence and Experience_. "William," he finally said.

"Then you may call me William Aquinas," the angel said with a polite bow of his head.

Ciel gave a humph noise and began stumbling towards the exit again, but William reached down and scooped him up. Ciel grunted in complaint but allowed it. "We should flee quickly. Someone will come across this scene eventually."

Ciel averted his eyes. "Yes."

Solemn looks on their faces, the angel and the little boy departed from hell into the unknown.


	2. Chapter 1: A Promise

Warnings: None for this chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Black Butler_ or its characters. They belong to Yana Toboso, Square Enix, A-1 Pictures, and other licensors and distributors. This is a not-for-profit fan work. William is my OC and thus tentatively belongs to me.

Author's Note: I'm doing my best to remain true to canon, but I am aware of some differences that have nothing to do with William's presence, such as the 'was Ciel in the cage or being stabbed on the alter when he made the contract' thing (though to be fair, that's not clear in canon either). Let's just chalk any differences up to AU, shall we?

Also, yes, I am planning to find a Blake, Milton, or possibly other English poet/writer's quote to go with each chapter. Gotta put that English degree to use somewhere.

My hugest thanks to everyone who's reviewed and started to follow this story. I truly appreciate it!

Chapter 1  
A Promise

_"O the cunning wiles that creep_  
_In thy little heart asleep!_  
_When thy little heart doth wake,_  
_Then the dreadful light shall break."_

_-A Cradle Song, William Blake_

It was rainy and foggy as William and Ciel emerged into the streets of London. A nearby church bell rang eleven times, giving Ciel an idea of what time it was.

"You need medical attention," William said matter-of-factly. Even with the fatal injury healed, the boy was still in a sorry state—his eyes were dull, dry, and lifeless, his skin was pallid and his hair brittle. His skin stretched sickeningly tight over his bones, and William was concerned that the fragile body might break at any minute.

"I do," Ciel agreed. "Take me to the Royal Hospital, and inform my aunts of my condition. Also, see if you can locate any servants who might have survived. Especially a man by the name of Tanaka."

William raised an eyebrow at the foreign name, but said, "It shall be done."

Even though it was late in the evening, William managed to hail a cab as they stumbled upon one of the larger streets. Ciel hadn't been to London very often and even when he had, he'd never had to navigate it himself before. He was more than happy to sit back and let William do the work.

And do the work he did. Ciel found himself highly impressed with the angel's competence—the boy would have expected an angel to have little to no idea how the world really was, but William seemed calm and down to Earth. Ciel briefly wondered if the man were supernatural at all, or if he was just some crazy homeless man with a savior complex. But the more he tried to rationalize what had happened the less sense it all made. Those wings, and the way William had killed all those people for what they had done just by lifting a hand. No human being could have done that without giving their trick away.

Ciel was even more amazed when the cab arrived in front of the large hospital complex and William produced the somewhat substantial cab fare out of his coat pocket.

The odd pair then disembarked the cab, and when William moved to help Ciel along the boy slapped his hand away. "I can walk on my own." Eyeing the man suspiciously, Ciel walked along as the angel followed. After seeing the angel produce the cab fare out of seemingly thin air, Ciel began to take note of the angel's attire. William's wings had vanished, and Ciel wasn't sure how. He wasn't hiding them under his coat. He wore a thick dark blue overcoat that concealed whatever shirt he had on underneath and a pair of plain black trousers. Not top of the line, but no working class clothes either.

They entered the hospital together and approached the receptionist on duty, a young woman who lept up from her seat in shock and horror as she saw the sorry state the boy was in. "Oh, you poor thing! Can I get your name?"

"Earl Ciel Phantomhive," Ciel said, his voice strong in spite of his physically weakened state. "My aunt, Angelina Durless, is a doctor here."

The woman glanced at William as if trying to verify the child's identity. Ciel felt himself growing angry. How dare they doubt him.

"I will vouch for his identity," William spoke up.

The woman nodded and began asking Ciel all types of questions as she filled out forms. The boy answered them all patiently. When she was done, she told them to wait a moment while she fetched the physician on duty.

"You don't know who I am," Ciel said once he and the angel were alone. "Why did you say you did?"

"If you say you are the Earl Phantomhive, I have no reason to doubt you," William replied simply.

"I hate liars," Ciel replied. It was a biting remark, as cold as the winter snow.

"That's interesting," William replied in a tone that was as close as he could get to sharp. "Because you seem to be quite the liar yourself."

Ciel glared at him, pure venom in his eyes. "Promise you'll never lie to me. Ever."

While there was no binding reason for him to make such a promise, William conceded, "I will not lie to you. I swear it."

Ciel opened his mouth to say more, presumably more demands, but stopped when the doctor and two of his assistants came into the room. Dismayed that it wasn't his aunt, he asked, "Is Dr. Durless not here?"

"No, I'm afraid she is off duty until tomorrow, my Lord," the doctor said. He was an older gentleman with graying hair and a mustache. "But I can assure you, you will receive exquisite care under me, and Dr. Durless will be notified as soon as possible that you are here."

"That is acceptable." Ciel had no doubt soon most of London would know that he was here, that the Phantomhive line was not gone after all, that the son had survived to carry on the legacy. That wasn't the type of story that escaped attention, in spite of, or perhaps because of, his family's status.

"If you would follow me, we will take you to the medical ward. Can you walk or should we bring a stretcher?"

Ciel stood to follow with a pained grimace. "I'll go with you."

William remained where he sat, watching the boy go and wondering why this child intrigued him so. His heart and soul, his very being, was so tainted by darkness. And yet, there was something else, as well. Some small fragment of light and innocence. So tainted, and yet so innocent and pure. No doubt he would have been a prime target for a demon looking for a meal. William was glad he was the one who'd gotten to the boy first—no demon would come near Ciel now that an angel had pledged himself to the child.

He wasn't obligated to stay. In fact, he probably shouldn't have. Every instinct was telling him to move on to the next person who needed his help. He had answered this boy's prayer, and had no further reason to stay. And yet there was a reason. In spite of all his boasting, Ciel was incapable of defending himself. And if he was going to tread down such a dangerous road, the boy would need someone capable of defending him. The thought of remaining with such a twisted person made William shudder, and yet, he knew he had to remain, and help guide this child back to the light. It was not going to be an easy road—perhaps even an impossible one. Yet William found himself unable to walk away.

_He's very demanding,_ William thought to himself with a humorless smile as he set off to notify the Earl's closest relatives of his survival and current condition.

* * *

An hour later, Ciel was situated in a hospital bed, recovering from his injuries, when William returned to give his report.

"Angelina Durless will not be in until tomorrow morning, but I shall remain overnight and inform her of what has happened when she arrives. As for Francis Middleford, I have sent a message to her. And the servant known as Tanaka has not been discharged from this hospital. The doctor is bringing him here now."

As soon as he spoke the words, a nurse pushing a wheelchair rounded the corner into the room they'd brought Ciel. In the wheelchair sat an elderly Japanese man whose face twisted up in a strange mixture of joy and sorrow upon seeing Ciel.

"T—Tanaka!" Ciel gasped, recognition flashing across his face.

The old man began crying as he forced himself to stand and walk over to the bed to pull the ten-year-old child into his arms, holding him tight as if he never wanted to let him go.

Once Tanaka composed himself once more, he returned to his chair while the nurse ordered Ciel returned to his bed. The door was then closed for privacy, leaving William, Ciel, and Tanaka alone in the room.

"Did you see who attacked the mansion? Is there anything you can tell me?" Ciel asked the old butler.

But to Ciel's immense dismay, Tanaka shook his head. "They attacked me from behind and I'm afraid I blacked out shorty after that. I did not see any faces." Tears returned to his eyes. "I am so relieved to see that you are safe, and I am so sorry I was unable to save your father."

He then looked at William, who had remained silent throughout the entire exchange. With some difficulty, due to his age and still-healing injuries, Tanaka reached down and removed a small emblem from his pocket. "I'm afraid I can't adequately accomplish the duties of a Phantomhive butler anymore, so if you are willing to accept, I will give this to you. I don't know who you are or where you're from, but please, take care of the Young Master."

A soft smile on his face, William gave a small bow. "I swear it," he said, sealing his fate.


	3. Chapter 2: New Life

Warning(s): None for this chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Black Butler_ or its characters. They belong to Yana Toboso, Square Enix, A-1 Pictures, and other licensors and distributors. This is a not-for-profit fan work. William is my OC and thus tentatively belongs to me.

Author's Note: Yay, new chapter! I have this interesting theory that Ciel is actually a very malleable person (hence why he's susceptible to Sebastian's subtle manipulations. If you'll notice, Sebastian eggs Ciel on a lot in canon which Ciel predictably reacts to) so I'm exploring as a central theme of this story how he might have acted if he'd had someone else with different motivations at his side. Another major goal of this story is to make William a three-dimensional character. We're starting to see shades of it now, but I promise I've got things planned for our angel. And in the next chapter I'm planning a major canon divergence, so stay tuned! I appreciate all reviews and constructive criticism!

Chapter 2  
New Life

_"If the fool would persist in his folly he would become wise."_  
_-The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, William Blake_

Ciel wanted to leave the hospital as soon as he began feeling better, but Madame Red insisted he stay one more day for observation. When he tried to get William to convince her otherwise, he simply shrugged and calmly explained why she was right.

The small boy still looked, for lack of a better word, terrible. He'd gained some weight back, but he still remained near emaciated, with his bones clearly visible beneath his skin. Healing cuts and scars still morbidly decorated his nearly his entire body.

Still, he wanted to leave, and reluctantly, Madame Red allowed it, but not before giving him his family's ring, one of the only things that had been salvaged from the wreckage of the manor. Ciel had taken it stoically, as if by accepting the ring he was accepting the weight of his family's burden.

It was early February, and the journey to the manor was long and cold. William sat on one side of the carriage in silence. If he was affected by the chilly air, he did not show it. Ciel, on the other hand, struggled to keep from shaking, his breath misting in the frosty air. Finally, William undid his coat and gently placed it in Ciel's lap. At first, Ciel pushed it away in refusal, glaring at it as if it were a venomous snake about to strike. But as the temperatures continued to drop and his shaking grew more violent, he finally bit back his fierce pride and wrapped the coat around himself.

After many hours they finally arrived back at the mansion, neither of them in the possession of anything. It felt lonely out there, in the cold, a man and a boy left with nothing except a burned down house, and each other.

"There's one thing I need to do," Ciel replied, his voice deep and grave. He began making his way around to the back of the mansion, where it became clear to William what his charge sought. It was a graveyard, presumably the graveyard where generations of the Phantomhive family had been laid to rest. The dirt had not yet settled on the two graves closest to the entrance, and the names could be read easily on the stones that watched over the graves. Vincent and Rachel Phantomhive. There was even a third one next to them, bearing Ciel's name.

William watched a peculiar change come over Ciel. For having stood so tall in pride just a few moments before, the boy's shoulders began to sag and tears glistened in his deep blue eyes.

"Mother. Father," he whimpered before falling to his knees in front of the graves, his hands clenched into fists. He cried long and hard, his frail body heaving violently with each sob, as William watched on, his heart breaking. But he said nothing, allowing the boy to grieve on his own terms. If he wanted comfort later, William would be more than willing to provide it. He wouldn't count on it, however.

Finally, after seemingly an eternity, Ciel straightened, drying his eyes on the shirt the hospital had given him. He wouldn't cry again for a long time.

"I suppose I'll have to inquire about a contractor to rebuild the mansion," Ciel said in a matter-of-fact voice as if he wasn't staring at the ruins of his childhood home and the symbol of everything he had lost. "There are inns in the area—we can stay there..."

William nodded. "I will inquire into the best carpenters in the area, and I will see to it the mansion is rebuilt exactly as it was. You have my word."

Ciel glanced at him, but did not say a word.

* * *

It took nearly three weeks to revive the Phantomhive manor from the ashes, with the workers being paid double to finish the job as quickly as humanly possible. As sections were finished, William began decorating the home, doing his best to recreate it from old photographs and Ciel's memory. Fortunately, blueprints from the original construction had survived, making the entire endeavor slightly easier. Ciel had requested the bedrooms be finished first, so he wouldn't have to spend another night in the small inn in the village down the hill. It wasn't a bad little inn, William thought, but he supposed for a boy used to the lap of luxury, it was rather lacking.

William found a room that would suit him nicely and began to form and follow a daily routine. Ciel was demanding, though William was convinced the boy's attitude was more out of necessity than perceived haughtiness. He was ten years old and his father was dead. It came as no surprise that he had no clue how to be a proper earl or conduct himself accordingly. Then again, it wasn't like William knew how to be a proper servant, either. As an angel, he was always a servant to both the Almighty and the humans who begged for his help. But to play the part of a, butler, he supposed, in a noble English house, was certainly foreign to him.

He read books, as many books as he could get his hands on. He observed other butlers and their masters on his numerous trips to London to acquire items for dinner or to refurbish the mansion. As the days wore on, he got more used to Ciel and more used to his role.

As Ciel's strength returned, so did his stubbornness and pride. William wondered if the boy had exhibited such traits before his traumatic experience with the cult, or they had manifested because of it. He seemed to give William a hard time over everything, but particularly his cooking. William hadn't the faintest idea how to prepare human food, for he didn't need to eat. Usually Ciel's outbursts took the form of words, but once the boy lashed out physically when William touched his side unexpectedly in the bath. William had simply caught the boy's hand, looked him in the eye, and said in an almost vicious voice, "Don't hit me." Ciel had glanced away and not made an attempt to strike the angel again.

William also found himself Ciel's personal tutor, teaching the boy everything from Latin to science. This wasn't an issue for William—he had been in existence since the beginning of creation, and had vast knowledge of most of the subjects Ciel needed to learn. Ciel wasn't a perfect student, of course, but for the most part he showed a desire to learn, especially business concepts so he could operate the Funtom Company, taking over where his father left off. He didn't particularly like Latin, and made frequent mistakes. But William could tell he was trying and remained patient. Once Ciel even asked him why the angel didn't punish him for his mistakes, and William had simply shrugged and said, "That wouldn't make you learn any faster, would it?"

Almost begrudgingly, Ciel began acting more lenient towards William, though he would not hesitate to tell the angel when he made a mistake dressing him or when the water was too hot or when the food was supposedly terrible. William couldn't even count the times the young earl had insulted his cooking, even though Elizabeth constantly praised it every time she came over for a visit. Even Francis, who he had met once when she came over for a spring picnic on the grounds, had expressed her satisfaction with the meal.

The relationship between human boy and angel slowly developed into a weary one—neither fully trusting the other. Ciel felt William held some ulterior motive, and William tredded carefully, not sure how Ciel was going to react between one moment and the next.

It was when the intruders began coming that William began to get concerned. So far, Ciel's safety had yet to be in jeopardy. And the worst part was he had no idea if these men (and even a couple of women) were affiliated with the group that had captured Ciel, or if they had been hired by someone completed unrelated. From what he'd gathered in his research of the Phantomhive family history, the family had no shortage of enemies. It would be easier to list the people who _didn't_ hold a grudge for something the Phantomhives had done.

William ended up killing the first group of intruders because he had no other choice. They absolutely refused to leave, no matter how many chances he gave them, and they had clearly been out for both his and Ciel's blood. The second attack, however, which happened a week later, ended with several of the attackers on their knees before him, begging for their lives. And William had let them go.

When Ciel had found out, he had not been happy. "Why did you not kill them!?" he demanded in a rage.

"I am not fond of killing things that are alive," William replied coolly. "But there is another reason as well. If I allow them to flee, we can follow them right back to whoever hired them."

"I don't want to track them down," the boy replied, having clearly already thought this through. "I want to remain where I'm safe and let them come to me. Once word gets out that I am alive, I'm sure whoever attacked my family will come back and finish the job. When that happens, I will destroy them. It's your duty to protect me until that time. That is what you said you wanted to do, is it not?"

"Did you ever stop to think that perhaps I don't want to protect you, that I am simply performing my duty?" William inquired, almost casually.

Ciel's eyes hardened. "It doesn't matter to me what your reasoning is. I plan to use you as my chess piece so long as you are here."

_He is rather insufferable,_ William thought as he left the room, though even he wasn't sure exactly _what_ he was feeling in regards to Ciel.

It wasn't long before a letter from the Queen arrived. In it, she expressed her sympathies for the loss of his parents and that she was going to bequeath the title and the lands rightly owned by the Phantomhive family back to him as the surviving heir. The letter had contained an invite to a small ceremony at Buckingham Palace where the title would be passed on to him.

"Does it still hurt?" William asked when he noticed Ciel examining the horrific brand that had been burned onto his body as if he were an animal. They were in master bedroom of the Phantomhive's London townhouse, preparing for the event.

"No. All I feel is this burning anger inside of me," Ciel said. He glanced away, showing vulnerability for only a fraction of a moment. "Sometimes I wish it would go away, but then I realize that if it does, I won't be me anymore, because there's nothing else left inside."

Stoic-faced, William began to help the young earl into the clothing he would be wearing at the ceremony.

"I'm not sure if I agree with your statement," was all he said.

"I didn't ask for your opinion," Ciel snapped in reply.

William said no more.

* * *

The ceremony was a simple affair—only a handful of other aristocrats made an appearance, as did the Midfords and Madame Red. William stood near the back, remaining inconspicuous but watching carefully all the same. There was something about this place that unnerved him. Unlike Heaven, not all were equal under the Creator in this world. The people in this room all lived such privileged lives while others suffered and struggled simply to survive. There was something about that that seemed not right to him.

The Queen was seated at the front on her small throne, and Ciel stepped up to greet her when bidden. She smiled, and exchanged some words with him that William could hear, but he suspected the humans around him could not. "I am glad to see you safe and returned to my service," was what she said.

With that, Ciel bowed before the Queen and she officially bequeathed him his rightful title. In that moment, in spite of his young age, he truly looked like the Earl of Phantomhive.

"I wanted to thank you," Madame Red whispered to William at the conclusion of the ceremony as she got up to leave. William had started towards the exit as well, planning to reunite with his young master in the hallway.

"For what?" he asked, genuinely confused.

She smiled. "For looking after my nephew, of course. He needs someone at his side, and I think you've more than proven your loyalty."

"Perhaps," he replied. "But you do not need to thank me. I am only doing my duty."

Ciel was waiting for him in the hall. "What took you so long?" he demanded, careful to make sure no one else was close enough to hear.

"My apologies. I was conversing with your aunt. She is overjoyed to have you back alive, though she is understandably concerned about you."

"I'm fine. There's nothing for her to be concerned about," Ciel replied stubbornly. William couldn't tell if Ciel meant it or if he was simply trying to disguise his weakness. Either way, it was all too clear to William, who could sense life energy and emotions around him, just how much Ciel cared for his remaining family, even if he might not be able to express such feelings anymore.

"We have other things to focus on," Ciel said. "We need to find the organization responsible for what happened to me. I will make them pay, even if I have to strangle each and every one of them to death myself." He clenched his right hand into a fist, anger surging through his very being.

And yet William had seen the way Ciel reacted to his parents' graves. He had seen the boy's mood improve when Elizabeth paid a surprise visit. In spite of what he said, there was more than anger and a thirst for revenge left in the boy's soul. He could simply feel it.

"You have your title back, your life, and a beautiful fiancée. Is this not good enough?" William asked curiously.

Ciel hesitated a moment. "It is nice to have all those things. But I can't rest until I've obtained my vengeance. I didn't come back for my own happiness. I came back to punish those who hurt me and tarnished my family name. And nothing is going to stray me from that course."

William glanced away sadly as Ciel strode forward, his heart firmly set on his goal and his eyes focused firmly ahead.


	4. Chapter 3: A Most Troublesome Guest

Warning(s): Some violence.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Black Butler_ or its characters. They belong to Yana Toboso, Square Enix, A-1 Pictures, and other licensors and distributors. This is a not-for-profit fan work. William is my OC and thus tentatively belongs to me.

Author's Note: This chapter, unlike the others, is not a rewrite of any canon manga event. It's actually more of a mix between the first episode of the original anime and the first episode of Book of Circus with some originality thrown in. This is the end of the "set up" and the good plot stuff will start happening next time! Unfortunately, next time is going to be a while as I am participating in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) and will thus not be updating until at least mid-December. Sorry about that, and sorry that I proclaimed a large canon divergence in this chapter. It will actually happen next chapter. I appreciate all reviews and constructive criticism!

Chapter 3  
A Most Troublesome Guest

_"For everything that lives is holy."_

_-The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, William Blake_

_Three years came and went._

William quietly recited poetry to himself as he polished the silverware, taking advantage of a relatively quiet moment during his normally very busy day.

It was stunning how quickly he'd adapted to this rather mundane life. He was William Aquinas now, butler to the Phantomhives. While his angelic identity lingered, it had faded further and further into the background as if naught but a memory.

William found the human world thoroughly fascinating and yet horrifying. Beautiful works of art clashed with grotesque murders. He had obtained an affinity for books, and poetry in particular. He found it no wonder Ciel had named him after the poet William Blake—the man's view of the divine, while not entirely accurate, was something that constantly left William in awe as the lyricism of the poetry moved him to his soul.

On the other hand, every time he saw a starving beggar on the street, or read about the great British Empire's foreign conquests, it felt like a piece of his very soul was being shredded by the claws of a wild beast. More often than not, he wondered how humans seemed to find true happiness in their existence in a world such as this.

Ciel, it seemed, didn't even desire the happiness most humans sought after the misfortune that had befallen him. Perhaps that was why William was so drawn to the boy—he was still suffering, and William hoped he could do something, anything, to ease the boy's pain. Ciel had grown into quite a misanthrope, badly scarred by his experiences. He avoided contact with other people when at all possible. He spent his days hard at work running the Funtom Company and his nights doing his duty as the Queen's Watchdog, slowly but surely removing the criminals of the seedy underbelly of London society.

William reluctantly went along with the boy on these missions from the Queen, which he always despised. Soon, William began noticing a sharp tingle run down his spine whenever one of those letters arrived, as it heralded yet another miserable night for him. Ciel was more than aware that the angel would never allow harm to come to him, which not only led him to occasional reckless behavior but also to situations where William needed to sully his hands in order to keep the young Earl safe. The angel may have despised the deeds he was forced to commit, but he did them anyway, knowing Ciel would go without him if he were to refuse.

Glancing up at his clock, William realized it was about time to begin preparing for the guest they would be hosting that evening. A rather odious man if William did say so himself. The man's name was Charles Barrington and he had been one of the major investors in the Funtom Corporation since nearly the company's inception. William had only met him once before and had been less than impressed. Mr. Barrington came off more as a man who would rather see how he could best profit from children than want to manufacture toys for them. Still, it was William's duty to offer the full hospitality befitting a guest of the Phantomhives, and that was what he was going to do.

Dealing with Mr. Bennington wasn't going to be the greatest challenge, either. Since William's arrival, the Phantomhive manor had acquired three new servants, who were, to put it nicely, rather inept at their positions. The fifth servant, Tanaka, had returned to service for the Phantomhives but had largely done nothing since arriving back at the manor after his lengthy stay in the hospital other than drink so much tea it had William concerned for the human's health. The old Japanese man had been badly injured in the attack that had seen Ciel's parents killed and the manor burned to the ground, and William thought it was unlikely he would ever fully recover. Still, it was more than clear Ciel felt honor-bound to allow the old man to stay as long as he wanted, and William was more than happy to allow that.

The other three servants, Bardroy, Finnian, and Mey-Rin, were another matter altogether. Instead of sitting around doing next to nothing and drinking copious amounts of tea like Tanaka did, they actually made matters worse by utterly failing to do their jobs properly. William had attempted to calculate for this in his schedule for the day, but one or more of the servants never failed to surprise him. And as they were expecting a guest that day, he had a feeling all three of them would find some way to make a mess of things.

"Uh, William?" Bard said, appearing in the doorway. His hair and face had been singed and he held a flamethrower in his left hand. "I… sort of messed up on the steak again."

Well, they had been planning to have steak for dinner. William was going to have to come up with another option.

"Let me see what I can do," William said with a sigh as he put down his now-completed task and followed the guilty-looking man down the hall and into the kitchen.

Bard had burned the steak with a flamethrower, as per usual. At the beginning, William had been utterly stunned when the man had pulled out assault weaponry for use in the kitchen, but had since gotten used to the other servant's… odd proclivities. William was going to have to step in and make another dish that could better utilize steaks that had been charred on the outside but remained pink on the inside.

After telling Bard to clean up the mess, William stepped out into the hallway to inspect the cleanliness of the manor. To his immense irritation, there were large black grease stains all over the walls.

"Mey-Rin, what is the meaning of this?" asked William as he saw the maid just up ahead. Mey-Rin was a cheerful individual with red hair and somewhat silly-looking glasses that she wore even though they made her eyesight worse.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she cried as she actually read the label on the substance she was using to wipe the walls clean, which, as it turned out, was engine grease.

Temples throbbing in irritation, William thrust a soapy bucket of water at her and continued along. Fortunately she hadn't made it to the main entryway, and so he would simply have to show Mr. Bennington to his rooms via a different route.

Finally, he saw Finnian come running in through the front door, his face dripping with tears. William sighed. He'd just known it—this was going to be one of those days when all three of them did something to slow him down.

"Let me guess, you used too much weed killer?" William said, remembering a particularly bad incident when Finnian had managed to kill every single living plant on the entire estate.

"No, I pulled the flowers instead of the weeds," Finny cried. "I'm so sorry, William!"

Finny's mistakes were usually the easiest to fix, as dead or injured plants were something William could easily coax back to life by putting a little of his power into them. The garden would look fantastic by the time Mr. Barrington arrived that evening.

"It's all right, I'll keep reminding you," William said in a patient voice, though underneath his calm demeanor he was wondering how on earth this young man managed to function.

While they may have been utterly incompetent at their jobs, they weren't bad people, and William found himself enjoying their company in spite of all the broken dishes and scorched walls. It was a lot better than only having Ciel for company.

* * *

As the preparations drew to a close and the time drew near, William went to fetch the young master, who, like most days, had been holed up in his study since after he'd taken breakfast in his rooms.

"The preparations are complete and our guest will be arriving shortly," William reported. "Is there anything else you need of me?"

"Take a look at this," Ciel said, handing a small stack of papers to his butler over the desk. William glanced up at the boy and then back to the paper, feeling as though this were some kind of test. Carefully he looked at the numbers on the sheets, comparing them and noticing the names printed next to them. It quickly became clear to him what was going on.

"He's laundering money," William said with a surprised gasp as he looked over the financial record he'd been handed.

"Of course he is. I've known that for months now," Ciel said with a bit of a snort. "That is why I invited him here. I wanted to see how he would react to being confronted about it."

William gave Ciel a look but initially said nothing. He did not appreciate being put into a position like this. If Mr. Barrington intended to cause Ciel harm, William would be forced to honor his word to protect Ciel, even if that meant more killing and other distasteful acts. It was no different than the missions on which he accompanied the Queen's Watchdog. William hated killing people every time, even though he knew it was something that needed to be done. The human world was cruel indeed.

Choosing his words carefully, William finally spoke. "You willingly let someone who wouldn't bat an eye at the idea of killing you and making it look like an accident into your home?"

"He is an influential shareholder in the company," Ciel replied. "It would be suspicious if I avoided him."

"So instead you set a trap," William observed. "By giving him open access to you, you're going to see what he does. If he suspects that you know about his laundering, he might make an attempt on your life. And then you and the Funtom Company will be rid of him."

"Of course. But he will not succeed. Not unless you don't intend to keep your promise."

"I intend to keep it," William replied. But the tension in his voice was noticeable.

* * *

William glanced out the upstairs window at precisely five o'clock to see a carriage coming up the way. He inhaled, wondering how the night would unfold. With the grace and professionalism of the best butler, he made his way to the front door and opened it to greet the guests.

"Good evening, and welcome to the Phantomhive estate," William said with a polite bow. "My name is William Aquinas and I am the head butler. If there is anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable, don't hesitate to ask."

"It's good to be here," Charles Bennington replied. William took his coat and hat and regarded the second man that came in behind him. "May I introduce you to my valet, Mr. Stevens?"

"A pleasure," William said as Mr. Stevens gave a short bow.

"Dinner will be served in an hour and then you and the young master will retire to the drawing room to discuss business," William informed their guest as he showed the man and his valet to their rooms.

"That is acceptable," Mr. Barrington said.

William stopped in front of the guest room and opened the door. "This is where you will be staying and I hope it is to your liking. Accommodations have been prepared for your valet downstairs."

"He will go down to the servant's hall shortly," Mr. Barrington replied. "I need him to help me unpack and I would also like to speak to him for a moment."

"As you wish," William said as he exited the room and shut the heavy doors behind him.

William strode down the hall but listened carefully to what the voices in the guest room were saying when they thought they were alone. "The mansion seems lightly guarded," Barrington was saying, probably to his valet. "If the brat knows, it shouldn't be difficult to do him in and blame it on a robbery."

William's brow crinkled as he rounded a corner, putting the visitors out of his hearing range.

* * *

"Dinner is ready to be served," William announced as he walked into Ciel's study. Ciel was glancing over financial reports from the Funtom Company, in all likelihood more of the reports he found suspect.

"All right," Ciel said as he stood and stretched.

"They seem ready to make their move," William reported softly.

Ciel glanced at the angel out of the corner of his eye. "Don't leave my side tonight."

"It shall be done."

* * *

Dinner was an odd affair that seemed normal and pleasant but William could tell murderous undercurrents were flowing violently beneath the surface of the conversation. He had instructed the other servants to remain out of sight of the guests, but Mey-Rin needed to come clear the table and bring out the next course, and predictably she fell flat on her face. It had strained him, but William had managed to catch the platter before it smashed to the floor, all while keeping the incident out of the sight of Mr. Barrington.

Once dinner was over, Ciel led Mr. Barrington to the drawing room, and William followed calmly, as if prepared for anything that could happen.

William wanted to be in the room with Ciel, but at his silent movements Ciel shook his head no. William then remained outside, listening carefully and ready to move as quickly as he possibly could at the first sign of an incident.

"So how is your wife doing?" Ciel said, beginning with some small talk. William had to resist a chuckle. His young master was terribly bad at such social graces.

"I'm no longer married," Mr. Barrington replied with a faux sigh of sorrow. "I caught my wife cheating on me with another man and I ended the marriage then and there." A pause. "But your life is so much more interesting than mine. You have brought the Phantomhive family name back from the brink of destruction. I was so sorry to hear about Vincent. He was a good business partner and a good friend."

William highly doubted that, but he supposed humans normally said such things when consoling another, so he wrote it off. He was certain, however, that if Ciel had never come back from the clutches of the satanic cult that this man would have profited greatly from the company.

"Is it true you were planning on dismantling and selling the company in the event I hadn't returned?" Ciel asked, as if reading William's thoughts.

Mr. Barrington stuttered. "Well, I don't know if anyone else could have run the company so well as it is now. And to be frank, I think you've only just begun to prove yourself as competent a businessman as your father was."

William could practically feel how irritated Ciel was by the other man's words.

"So, have you looked at this month's finances?" Ciel asked, moving on to the heart of the issue. William could hear the sofa in the drawing room squeak slightly as the boy shifted his weight.

"I've skimmed them, but I haven't had the chance to analyze them thoroughly, if that's what you're asking." William noticed the change in tone, and he was sure Ciel had too. The young master had come dangerously close to claiming his prize.

"I noticed some discrepancies, and I was wondering if you could explain them to me," Ciel said, as if he were a child who didn't understand what was written on the papers he reviewed and signed every month.

William glanced up toward the ceiling at his young master's act.

Mr. Barrington's voice maintained that shaken timber, but he slowly grew more confident as he explained the financials to Ciel. It seemed to William like this story had been prepared far in advance.

As Mr. Barrington finished, Ciel fixed him with an angry glare. "You're lying," he said, dropping the act. "I know you've been stealing money from the company, and I won't allow it to continue any further."

"I was hoping you wouldn't figure it out," Mr. Barrington said. William tensed, his hand now resting on the door handle. This conversation was going to end soon. Very soon.

He threw open the door.

Mr. Barrington's valet stood in the back corner, cleverly concealed by the frilly drapes and the shadows cast by the dying sunlight coming in through the window. At the exact second William opened the door and stormed into the room, Mr. Stevens, whom William was relatively certain was a lot more than just a valet, made his move.

William, of course, had known the "valet" had been there all along, and had factored him into the many different scenarios that could have played out that evening. Fixing his eyes on Mr. Stevens and Mr. Barrington, William firmly planted himself between them and Ciel. Both men appeared astonished at how quickly William had moved. One moment he had been at the door and the next he was standing directly in the line of fire.

William glanced down at Mr. Barrington in distaste. "I do not appreciate you threatening my master," he said. Ciel blinked, and for a moment it appeared the angel's eyes were glowing blue. "Leave this house at once or face the consequences."

But Barrington just laughed. "You alone are no match for me. I've hunted big game in Africa nearly my whole life and my private bodyguards are all ex-special forces who have seen their fair share of combat. It would probably be in your best interest to leave and pretend you were never here. I will pay you well in exchange for your silence."

Ciel simply watched on, not appearing afraid in the slightest, as William's eyes narrowed. "I will give you one last chance to back away, and I will be forgiving."

At that last act of defiance, Barrington's valet pulled a revolver and fired it at William's chest. The bullet struck home, straight through the heart, and blood began pouring down his shirt in a stream of red. The shade of blue in his eyes deepening, William lunged as if instinctively at Mr. Stevens, reaching out and grabbing the human's neck with his right hand. There was a sickening crunch and more blood joined William's in a puddle on the floor. The man toppled over, dead.

William was in the process of returning his attention to Mr. Barrington when he realized Mr. Barrington was also going for Ciel with a small knife he had pulled from his pocket. No doubt his plan was to grab the boy and hold him hostage in order to escape. But William was fast. This time, however, he did not go for the kill. He merely lashed out with his left leg, meaning to stop Mr. Barrington in his tracks. He succeeded astonishingly. There was a violent crack and a scream from Mr. Barrington and he also collapsed to the floor, his leg clearly broken.

Judging that the danger was over, William left Ciel by the armchair and went over to Mr. Barrington, who let out a pathetic cry and made a feeble attempt to crawl away from the encroaching supernatural creature. "Monster!" he cried. He was clearly trying to hold back the tears in his eyes, from either the pain or the fear, William wasn't sure.

"I will let you go," William said angrily as he reached down and grabbed Mr. Barrington's shoulder, forcing another scream from the man. "But if you ever have any association with the Funtom Company again, or if you make another attempt on Earl Phantomhive's life, I will not hesitate to put an end to you."

Clearly terrified, Barrington predictably promised him the moon and the stars to go along with it. William couldn't be sure if the man were being honest or not, but he didn't feel he had much choice. He would not and could not kill a man who was begging for his life.

William released his grip on the man's shoulder. He must have clamped down a little too hard—the bone had clearly been broken.

"Why did you let him go?" Ciel asked a few moments later as Mr. Barrington limped away down the drive as fast as his injured leg could carry him, his left arm hanging loosely at his side.

"Killing in self-defense is one thing," William replied. "Killing someone who is begging for his life is not something I can do." He glanced at the boy. "But do not worry. You will never be in danger so long as I am here."

Ciel glanced away. "Let's hope so."


End file.
